


Define

by tygermine



Category: Bandom
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-29
Updated: 2018-09-29
Packaged: 2019-07-18 23:53:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16129280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tygermine/pseuds/tygermine
Summary: Why do people feel the need to define everything?





	Define

**Author's Note:**

> For the four of you out there that enjoyed my previous Gabe/Travis fics, here is a little interlude I typed up during a five minute break at work. I hope you dig it.

 

"So...you and Gabe..."

 

 

 

Disashi collapses onto the large black leather couch where Travis was enjoying a quiet afternoon youtubing stupid things pets do. He leans his head back against the couch and rolls his eyes towards his bandmate. Travis decides that ignoring Disashi is the best way to go and clicks on a link to another video clip.

 

 

 

"You know, everyone is talking about it." Disashi tries again, pulling a dimebag and rizzla papers out of his jacket pocket. "Well, speculating, at least."

 

 

 

Travis shrugs. He clicks on another link to another video. There's something addictive about watching pets run into glass doors and chase their own tails.

 

 

 

The weed is sorted on the glass tabletop, pods, leaves and seeds separated using a guitar pick. Disashi is meticulous in this. "There's nothing worse than seeds popping so close to your eyes."

 

 

 

Suddenly Travis' phone rings out, breaking Disashi's concentration with a oh, fuck, shit!

 

 

 

"Yo!" Travis crows into his phone, suddenly full of life. "Hey man. Yeah... Just smoking it up..." he smiles wide as he chuckles at whatever is said over the connection. "Yeah. Later then."

 

 

 

"Gabe?" Disashi doesn't really have to ask. Travis only smiles like that after Gabe calls. He wonders if Travis has noticed it.

 

 

 

"What's with the twenty questions man?" Travis whines, shutting his computer and taking the joint out of Disashi's hands, rolling it into the perfect specimen of herbal relaxation.

 

 

 

"Nothing, man. Just...you know..."

 

 

 

"I'd like one, yeah. Hey, stop bogarting the weed."

 

 

 

Disashi takes the joint from Travis, who has suddenly developed a glazed look in his eyes.

 

 

 

After the joint is finished and the boys are mellowing out, Travis nudges Disashi's foot.

 

 

 

"You can't define what isn't there."

 

 

 

"This is where I leave you to play catch up with yourself," Dishashi levers himself off of the couch and ambles out the door.

 

 

 

Travis hoists a proud middle finger at Dishashi's retreating back before opening his laptop and booting up Youtube. He doesn't even think twice when he searches Gabe interviews.

 

 

 

"There's nothing there," he mumbles to himself.

  
 

 

 


End file.
